Half the Woman I Used to Be

At 5'3' and 400 pounds, I'd been through hospitalization, high blood sugar, heartbreak and harsh judgment. Here's how I lost over 200 pounds.

By

Tonia Burton as told to Melba Newsome

 
Published April 03, 2026
Split-image photo illustration showing a fitness and wellness transformation concept. One side depicts a larger body silhouette in grayscale athletic wear, while the other side shows a slimmer, active individual in colorful workout clothing and a fitness tracker
AARP (Getty Images, 3)

Several months ago, I nearly fainted when I stepped on the scale at my doctor’s office. I weighed under 200 pounds for the first time since middle school. A combination of things helped me reach that milestone, most notably my willingness to make a sincere, long-term commitment to a new lifestyle.

When I started gaining weight around the third or fourth grade, it didn’t go unnoticed in a family where I was the only chubby one. My older sister bought Dick Gregory’s weight loss shakes for me and pushed me to start dieting. That’s about the time discomfort, chafing, and inability to find a decent fit prompted me to stop wearing pants.

Being heavy didn’t stop me from having an active social life in middle and high school. Looking back, obesity probably prompted me to do things to be popular, like hanging out with friends when I should have been studying or losing my virginity at an early age. My size factored into virtually every decision: whether it was the cars I bought, classes I took, or meetings I attended, my biggest worry was ‘will I be able to fit into the provided seat?’

When I married three years after high school, I weighed 300 pounds. By the time our daughter Dominique was born in 1995, we were headed for divorce, and I was entering the unhealthiest period of my life. Often overwhelmed by work, college and single parenthood, I rationalized that my lack of free time justified my food fixation and sedentary lifestyle. I raised my daughter with the same habits and the same results. She and I tried every diet imaginable, repeatedly losing and regaining the same 5 - 10 pounds.

When I’d reached the mid-300s in my late 30s, I tried the Atkins low-carb diet and lost 70 pounds in 9 months. But the plan wasn’t realistic or sustainable because, rather than focusing on changing my lifestyle, it was just another in a long line of failed quick fixes. I only needed a few months to regain the weight and then some.

My size factored into virtually every decision: whether it was the cars I bought, classes I took, or meetings I attended, my biggest worry was ‘will I be able to fit into the provided seat?’

Not long afterwards, I ended up in intensive care, temporarily blind, close to a diabetic coma and on the verge of kidney failure. I needed a home health care nurse when I left the hospital several days later.

For years, I convinced myself that I was managing my diabetes, but despite twice-a-day insulin injections, my disease controlled me, and my weight continued to climb. In 2018, I was just shy of 400 pounds, my highest recorded weight, and had pretty much given up on ever having a right-sized body. I started seeing an endocrinologist who assured me that she could help me get a handle on my diabetes and my weight.

I ended up in intensive care, temporarily blind, close to a diabetic coma and on the verge of kidney failure. I needed a home health care nurse when I left the hospital several days later.

She prescribed a GLP-1 agonist medication that has proven effective for managing Type 2 diabetes and weight loss. Known by the brand names Ozempic, Trulicity, and Wegovy, these medications are all the rage now, but seven years ago, few people were aware of them, including me.

“You’re going to lose weight,” she told me.

Having heard that too many times to count, I rolled my eyes in skepticism. But my cravings disappeared almost immediately, and I lost 10-15 pounds in the first few weeks. I learned that the medications for which I paid a $25 monthly copay as a state employee trigger the pancreas to release insulin, slowing the rate of stomach emptying and regulating appetite by signaling the brain to tell the body it is satisfied.

The early success inspired me to make small dietary changes and become more physically active. Instead of fries, I’d have a salad. I used my free time to walk and do yard work. It had taken three years, but by 2021, I had lost 110 pounds and no longer needed insulin. Instead of being dismayed by the slow progress, I saw it as a miracle and the beginning of a sustainable, lifelong journey.

She prescribed a GLP-1 agonist medication that has proven effective for managing Type 2 diabetes and weight loss. Known by the brand names Ozempic, Trulicity, and Wegovy, these medications are all the rage now, but seven years ago, few people were aware of them, including me.

But at 5’3” and close to 300 pounds, I was still a morbidly obese diabetic, which qualified me for insurance-covered gastric bypass surgery to remove 80% of my stomach. I lost another 50-60 pounds quickly. For the first time in my life, I had enough stamina to travel and was able to fit into an airplane seat. When the plane took off for a weekend trip to Chicago, I cried with gratitude.

Gastric bypass surgery often lowers blood sugar levels enough to send diabetes into remission. After 12 years, I was no longer a diabetic. This hallelujah moment was followed by the state’s decision to limit insurance coverage of GLP-1 drugs to people with diabetes only, meaning I would go from paying $25 to at least $1200 a month. Obesity is a chronic disease with so many negative health consequences. However, it is still viewed as a moral failing, and using medication to get it under control is considered a crutch. The state ultimately reversed course and conceded that Ozempic was a necessary preventive drug that kept my diabetes from returning.

Next up is a panniculectomy, or apron surgery, a procedure to remove the vast amounts of excess skin that can cause rashes and sores and make movement and personal hygiene more difficult.

It had taken three years, but by 2021, I had lost 110 pounds and no longer needed insulin. Instead of being dismayed by the slow progress, I saw it as a miracle and the beginning of a sustainable, lifelong journey.

Today, my life is 180 degrees from where it was seven years ago. I am physically active, and my diet mainly consists of foods I thought I’d never eat. People I’ve known for years tend to be surprised that I’m still committed to this program, or do a double-take because they don’t recognize me. I take it all in stride because sometimes I don’t recognize myself. The real image differs dramatically from the one I still have in my head. Although I’m half of my highest body weight, I’m still not done working toward the better, healthier me and hope I never will be.